Swordmage (27 page)

“You lying serpent…” Geran snarled in fury.

Easy, Geran, Hamil told him. The halfling set his hands on his hips and looked up at Sergen. “So, Lord Sergen, are Geran and I responsible for the barrows that were plundered before we even arrived in town? If we didn’t do it, then who did?”

Kara narrowed her azure eyes and folded her arms over her breastplate. “For that matter, Sergen, why didn’t you report this dire tale as soon as you heard it?”

“Frankly, I thought Geran had already fled Hulburg again,” Sergen answered. “He hasn’t been seen here in days, after all, and I hoped to spare the family any story of his misdeeds. You all seem to think well of him, after all.” He glanced down at Hamil and shrugged. “As far as who opened barrows before you arrived, well, we have only your word that you returned to Hulburg when you claim you did. How do we know you haven’t been here for months, searching out barrows to loot? For that matter, how do we know that you weren’t the very tomb robbers Jarad Erstenwold died trying to arrest?”

“Now that’s ridiculous!” Kara snapped. “Perhaps you’d like to suggest that Geran is responsible for the Spellplague and the Time of Troubles too, while you’re at it?”

The harmach sighed. “Sergen, I don’t find your

accusations against Geran very credible. Your anger is speaking for you.”

“They are not my accusations, Uncle. I’m only reporting what’s been told to me. Regardless of what you find credible, there are a dozen Veruna blades who can swear to their account of what happened on the Highfells two nights ago.” Sergen drew himself up and measured Geran sternly. “Geran may have inveigled you with his self-aggrandizing tales, but I think the Merchant Council will be less easily swayed by old affection.”

“I will lay Geran’s charges against House Veruna before the Merchant Council, Sergen,” the harmach warned. “And I expect them to be investigated thoroughly and impartially. If you are not capable of doing that, I’ll appoint a new keeper of duties to oversee the Council Watch and see to it.”

“So you take Geran at his word?” Sergen pointed at Geran and snarled, “While he’s been off playing at adventure in foreign lands, I’ve stayed here and built Hulburg from a forgettable little backwater into a prosperous town! What’s he ever done for this city or this family? This drafty old castle would be crumbling around your ears if not for the coin
brought in. I refuse to let his wild stories antagonize a trading partner as valuable as Mulmaster!” He glared defiantly around the room and then abruptly shouldered his way past Geran and stormed out the door, slamming it shut behind him.p>

Geran drew a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair; the harmach sat down slowly and leaned his cane against his chair. No one else said anything for a long moment, and then Hamil cleared his throat and said, “Forgive me if I’m speaking out of place, but why charge Urdinger and the Veruna men through the Merchant Council? Why not send the Shieldsworn to arrest them?”

“My hands are bound by the laws of concession, Master Hamil,” the harmach answered. “Matters of justice pertaining to the merchant costers are dealt with by the Merchant

Council. My Shieldsworn aren’t permitted to set foot in the conceded territory, nor are they allowed to arrest foreigners employed by a merchant company holding a concession. We must lay our charges before the Merchant Council and allow the council to arrest, try, and sentence their own.”

“And do you trust Sergen to charge and try House Veruna’s armsmen?” Geran asked.

Grigor glanced out the leaded window at the warm rain pattering down over the town. “Sergen has shown that his loyalty lies with our family on many occasions, Geran,” he said quietly. “I’ve always believed that trusting someone can make that person worthy of trust, and Sergen long ago made up for the harm his father intended against us. But it might be true that he’s become too entangled with the merchants he deals with.”

“He’s protecting Jarad’s murderer, Uncle Grigor.”

“Which he may not have known he was doing until you reported what you’d found in the Highfells,” the harmach pointed out. He shifted his gaze back to Geran and met his eyes. “I’ll give him a few days to show me that he can set aside his dislike for you and act on the information you’ve brought to light, and if he doesn’t, then yes, I will replace him. Now—tell me everything about Aesperus and this book. I want to know what the King in Copper has to do with this whole affair.”

Seventeen

Later in the afternoon, Geran decided it was time to visit Mirya Erstenwold again. She’d insisted that there was nothing that he had to do about Jarad’s murder on her account, but that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve some answers. After all, when they’d met at Jarad’s graveside, she’d seemed to understand that he needed to settle Jarad’s business for the peace of his own heart, if not hers. By sharing her suspicions about House Veruna, she’d given him her blessing to follow his own path through grief. Geran was slowly resigning himself to the idea that he might not ever find out which of the Veruna armsmen had actually waylaid his friend in that wild and lonely place, but he could certainly tell Mirya what the Veruna men had been seeking and how Jarad had come to get in their way. Besides, Mirya needed to know what he’d learned about Veruna’s involvement. The men who’d murdered her brother might be the same men who now threatened her family’s livelihood with their extortion and intimidation.

Wrapped deeply in his thoughts, Geran slipped out of the castle an hour before sunset, leaving Hamil to entertain Natali and Kirr. He set out from Griffonwatch on foot, dressed in a nondescript gray cloak, only one more man among the hundreds in the streets who hurried about on their own business. The rain had diminished to a cool, steady mist

that beaded his cloak without really soaking the dense wool, and faint tatters of cloudwrack drifted over the town only a few hundred feet overhead. He took Cinder Street through the Tailings—by daylight the neighborhood was simply run down and poor, not dangerous—crossed the Winterspear at the Middle Bridge, and climbed the steps up to the square by the Assaying House and High Street.

As he threaded his way through the sodden streets, Geran brooded over the question of how to hold House Veruna to account even if the harmach couldn’t. When he considered events coldly and carefully, he decided that it didn’t matter all that much which of the armsmen had been involved. The Veruna men were mercenaries, paid to do what they did without asking questions, and the ultimate responsibility for Jarad Erstenwolds murder rested with the man or woman who had ordered the mercenaries to kill him. It seemed likely that Anfel Urdinger might be that man—after all, Mirya had seen him wearing Jarad’s elfmade dagger. And the encounter at the barrow of Terlannis suggested that Urdinger was the sort of captain who was inclined to personally see to important missions. The only real question in Geran’s mind was whether Urdinger had conceived the plans to loot the barrows, deal with Aesperus, and assassinate Jarad Erstenwold himself, or simply followed the orders of Lady Darsi or some other high-ranking member of House Veruna.

Geran reached the intersection with Plank Street and turned the corner to Erstenwolds. The first sign of trouble was the two mercenaries in tabards of green and white standing outside the door of Mirya’s store with insolent smirks. Passersby gave them a wide berth, staying well clear of the doorway. The next sign was the sound of breaking glass and coarse laughter from inside.

Geran’s step faltered. “Ah, damn it all,” he muttered. “Geran, you fool!” The Veruna men were back, vandalizing the place to teach Mirya a lesson for letting him stand up for her. But whether it was a message for him or a message for her, he wasn’t going to stand by and let Darsi Veruna’s

mercenaries hurt Mirya or drive her out of business. I think I’ve had about enough of Darsi Veruna’s hired blades, he decided. He paused in the shadow of a doorway and quickly spoke a couple of his swordmage spells. Then he crossed the street, heading for the steps where the mercenaries waited.

“Find another store, friend,” one of the men said coldly. “This one’s closed.”

“That’s not for you to say,” Geran replied, and he whipped his cloak free of his shoulders, dropping it into the muddy street without breaking stride. His right hand rode on his sword hilt. “Now get out of my sight, because Torm knows I’ve had all I can stand of your stink in my town.”

“Damn it, Terth! That’s html” the second man said to the first. “That’s Geran Hulmaster!”

“I don’t care if he’s the king of Cormyr,” the first armsman said. He set his hand on the hilt of his own sword and grinned in challenge at Geran. “I don’t mean to step aside for him.”

“Sanhaer astelie! ” Geran snarled.

He lunged forward and caught the first Veruna man with his bare hands by the belt buckle and the collar. With the burst of magical strength the spell gave him, he simply plucked the man right off the top step, holding him above his head. He wheeled and took three strides with the Veruna bladesman waving and kicking helplessly in midair before he rammed the man headfirst into a big barrel full of rainwater that stood by the corner of the store. The man’s feet kicked and scissored in the air, but it was a big barrel, and it was full; it rocked but didn’t tip.

“Stay there as long as you like!” Geran snapped.

He heard the rasp of steel against wood and leather behind him and turned to face the second Veruna man hurrying down the porch. Geran swept his elven backsword from its sheath, flinging water from his wet sleeves, and bounded forward to meet the man. The mercenary aimed a high cut at Geran’s head, but Geran batted the blade over his head and then laid the man’s swordarm open from elbow to wrist. The mercenary’s sword clattered across the

cobblestones, and the man hissed a curse as he jerked his irm back. With the last glimmer of his strength spell, Geran seized him by his good arm with one hand, spun in a half-circle, and propelled the wounded man headlong into the side of the building. The Veruna man hit hard and went down in a jingle of mail, splattering blood from his wounded arm ill over the whitewashed timber.

Without even pausing to think about it, Geran leaped up the steps into the Erstenwold storefront. Two more Veruna men were inside. One—the mercenary sergeant Bann, whom Geran had seen in the store the last time he risked—had dragged Mirya out from behind her counter ind stood holding her with his hand knotted in her dark lair. The other man was systematically breaking every jar if goods on the shelves behind the counter.

“Let go of her,” Geran said coldly.

Bann looked up in surprise as Geran stormed in, but :he big mercenary recovered quickly. “You know, I’ve been waiting for this,” he remarked. He dragged Mirya out of lis way and shoved her violently to the floor, then slowly drew his own blade. “I wonder if you’re man enough to neet me steel to steel, or do you need to lean on your iamned elven witchery?”

“Mirya, get out of the way,” Geran said. He waited a noment for her to pick herself up from the floor. Her chin was already beginning to bruise, but her eyes blazed with in icy fury, and she threw her shoulders back and walked sroudly to the doorway leading back toward the rest of ler storehouse.

“He’s strong, but he’s slow, Geran,” she said. “Try not to till him in my shop if you can help it.”

“Done,” Geran said. He glided forward, point low and >uard high, and stamped his lead foot down as he started vith a series of short slashes at the mercenary’s legs. Bann jarried the first and the second, then just missed the third ind earned a quick cut above the knee. He swore and beat Seran’s point up into the air, then put his size and power

into a whistling backhand cut that Geran caught with a” sliding block and stepped away from. Steel rang shrilly on steel as the two men traded cuts and parries.

“You ain’t that good without your magic, are you?” Bann^ grunted. But a trickle of sweat beaded at the man’s brow, and: his breath grew heavier. i

“I’m not in any particular hurry,” Geran replied. He let his momentum circle him around and attacked the lead leg again as Bann turned to follow him. This time he buried three’ inches of his point in the meat of Bann’s thigh just under his, mail, and the Veruna bladesman grunted and hobbled back, beating Geran’s point away again. “I’ve got hours to slowly cut you to pieces.”

“Cyric take me if you do!” Bann swore, and he suddenly lunged forward, bulling straight for Geran to catch the’ blades breast-to-breast. The bigger man grinned and pressed; down, shoving the swordmage back three paces across the old, smooth floorboards. Geran’s boots slid without giving him purchase, and he started to stumble—but he caught his; back foot against one of the posts in the center of the room, bent both knees a bit, and shoved back and up with all his I strength. He might not have been as big as the Veruna man, but he was quick and strong, and he knocked Bann’s sword, up over his head. j

Before the mercenary could recover, Geran simply slugged; him hard in the mouth with the heavy hilt of his sword. He felt teeth shatter, and the Veruna man spun away from the; blow, blood splattering from his mashed lips. Geran cut his; back leg out from under him, and Bann went to the floor, heavily, at which point Geran kicked his sword away and; struck him senseless with another kick.

“I was a pretty good swordsman before I went to Myth Drannor, you ox-brained fool,” he said to the unconscious Veruna man. Then he glanced around for the other, the one behind the counter. ;

The last mercenary glared at him and started to edge his way around the counter, moving to get clear. His hand j

settled on his sword hilt as he moved to put the open door at his back.

“You—get out of here now, or I’ll feather you right in the eye, eh?” Mirya spoke in a voice that was deadly and certain.

Geran glanced around. Mirya had quietly slipped back behind the counter to retrieve a small but efficient-looking crossbow, which she’d leveled at the other Veruna man. Evidently the fellow had been so caught up in watching his sergeant fight that he’d forgotten to keep an eye on her.